Total pages in book: 28
Estimated words: 26772 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 134(@200wpm)___ 107(@250wpm)___ 89(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 26772 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 134(@200wpm)___ 107(@250wpm)___ 89(@300wpm)
“Are we taking bets on how long it will last?” I add, scratching my cheek and clicking his rocks glass with my shot glass full of ice water.
I quit drinking after I nearly twisted a fucker’s head off years ago when he came into my garage talking shit. I was twenty, and there he was telling me if I didn’t back off and leave his customers alone, he was coming for me.
I don’t do threats. If I have a problem, I take care of it. Anger has been my muse since I was a kid but after my mom died, I’ve cultivated it like a fucking organic garden in Portland. Only that day I’d already thrown back a fifth of Stoli and wasn’t thinking clearly. I saw red, and there he was.
I near took his head off and shoved my thumbs through his eye sockets. Problem was, two cops were trailing behind him on some bullshit call about a robbery. It was a fucking set up and I took the bait. I did two years for assault with intent and never touched a drop of alcohol again.
I’m all about control and if something isn’t aligned with that objective, fuck it. It’s gone. That includes people.
James sips his drink as I toss back my fake shot. I could just drink it from a regular glass but I get fucking sick of hearing, ‘You not drinking?’, ‘Have a fucking drink, relax!’. The fucking alcohol culture is so pervasive especially in a strip club. It’s just time saving to have what looks like a drink in front of me at all times. I don’t like to waste my time.
“Nah.” James shakes his head. “Let’s let this one play out. She’s pretty. How does Dad do that? Gets these hot women…he’s…something.” He shakes his head and I nod.
“Love’s a mystery, my brother.”
James’ mother was married to my dad for three years. We were both ten and by thirteen, he was gone, but we always had a bond and we’ve kept it tight all these years. He’s my brother for all intents and purposes and probably the only member of my family I would spend time with outside of some business obligation.
I’m rolling my neck around when a six-foot seven wall of muscle steps behind James, holding a finger to his lips as I flick my eyes his way then back to my brother.
Tiny, who has been at The King’s Palace since I was fifteen, reaches around, grabs James’ drink from his hand and lays a kiss on his cheek.
“What the fuck!” James spins around, fists at the ready as Tiny throws back the rest of the Jameson with an exhale and a smile.
“Hi, Jimmy,” he says, rustling James’ hair as he winks at me.
“Fucker.” James chuckles, brushing his ever-perfect ink-black hair back into place as Tiny shifts to stand to my left.
I look out at the club floor where most of the tables are occupied by regulars or Dad’s acquaintances, all here for free drinks and a crappy buffet celebrating his fifth blushing bride.
Tiny nods toward the stage. “Hey, look. It’s time for karaoke. I think that’s your new sister.” He elbows me.
“What?” I clear my throat, looking down at my phone, checking if I’ve gotten a response from the flaming review I just posted on the business currently in my crosshairs. Squashing the competition is something I do well, and I enjoy it.
My newest target is the only competitor to a business my father and I bought a few months ago. I’ve been luring away customers by undercutting their pricing as well as posting shit reviews on Yelp, Marketplace and their website. I’ve got twenty sock-puppet accounts and with those I’m also making sure to send fake customer emails every day, complaining about this or that and threatening legal action. Even made an anonymous tip to the DA about some stolen goods being sold through there. Sooner or later, I’ll bring them down, or make them miserable enough to sell.
At pennies on the dollar. To us.
“Scotch.” James punches my shoulder. “Look, it’s our new sister.”
I run my tongue over my front teeth, the knots of anger clenching harder in my belly. Dad knows I don’t do family, not outside of the business ventures we have together. And James. This bullshit Larry pulled—I don’t call him dad—telling me he was married again and I was going to have a new sister?
Fuck that. It’s not like we’ve spent a holiday or Sunday dinner together for years. All I want is to search and destroy. Cozying up to some new version of the Brady Bunch is not happening.
Except, fucking nuts.
My balls feel like they just got tased.
“Holy shit,” I mumble as the little cherub red head with an ass for days takes the stage with a shitty karaoke microphone in her hands.